I Am Only Yours (Alternate)
by Nekisahloth
Summary: Alternate (ie- clean) version of "I Am Only Yours". A month has passed since their escape from the Fifth Age, but Atrus is slow to forget the past, while Katran wishes only to move on and create a new life for them. One night, Atrus speaks words Katran was unsure she would ever hear.


A few days shy of a month had passed since they had escaped from the Fifth Age to Myst, and Atrus was still spending several hours a day poring over the descriptive book, changing small phrases here and there to try and stabilize it. When he had first started disappearing to K'veer for entire days, Katran had tried to deter his obsession with "fixing" Riven. The Age could not be fixed. At best, they could prolong its life, and she knew that he was as aware of that truth as she was.

The first time she had followed him to K'veer had been only a week after their escape. Atrus had been hunched over his desk, so intent in his writing that he hadn't even noticed her arrival. Hoping this was an opportunity to draw him away from his forming fixation, Katran approached him, making her presence clear.

"Atrus?"

He looked up, hearing his name, although he still seemed distracted.

"Yes, Cath...Katri…" he stammered, trying so hard to say her name with the Rivenese inflections.

Sitting in the spare chair that they had brought to K'veer, Katran looked over at him, smiling softly. "I thought I might find you here, working away as usual," she said, trying to keep her tone light. "Ti'ana worries you know," she continued, half-lying to him in an effort to get his attention. Ti'ana didn't worry, she knew her grandson well, and was well aware that work was and escape for him, but she was concerned that the time he spent on K'veer was dragging him down into memories better left alone for now. "I think she misses you, when you spend so much time away."

Atrus was looking at her, but his expression hadn't changed. "I miss you too," Katran added softly. "This is supposed to be a new beginning for us, not a time spent reveling in the past." She gestured at the Riven book. "That is a world lost to us, Atrus. That is a life we left behind."

He shook his head, sorrow in his eyes. "I cannot just forget the past, Cath…" He sighed, rubbing his brow.

"Catherine," she said, cupping his chin in her hand. "Katran was my name in a life I no longer live. Move on with me, Atrus, please."

"I cannot," he whispered brokenly. "I cannot."

Sighing deeply, she stood and walked to the Myst linking book.

"I am sorry, Catherine."

"I know," she replied, placing her hand on the linking panel.

She had never stopped trying, but her efforts were becoming far less frequent. Mostly she only attempted to dissuade him from his obsession when he was on Myst Island, away from the cavern full of dark memories. But one evening when the rain was pouring and she needed an escape from the constant drizzle, she linked to K'veer.

Atrus was, of course, in the study. Surprisingly though, he was not working on the book, but rather pacing the circular room. He heard her link in and looked up. "Catherine," he said, smiling, and walking over to her.

They embraced, and as they parted, Catherine leaned up and placed a light kiss on his lips. Atrus gave her the same look he always did when she showed affection physically, a look full of doubt, and yet also hope. Hesitantly, he lifted his hand and rested it against her neck, near the brand that Gehn had marked her with. Unintentionally, he traced its path, feeling the raised scars left on her, burned into her flesh by _his father_. Sickened as he realized what he was doing, he stepped back, turning away from her and leaning against his desk, his hands clutching at its edges, as though he might faint at any moment. All the thoughts and worries that he fought off constantly came pouring down on him in that instant, like the cascade of a waterfall shoving him underneath the water below, drowning him in uncertainty, thrashing him against the sharp stones of memories and faults and everything his father was and everything he feared he would become. His knuckles whitened as he tightened his grip on the desk, bowing his head as the chaos consumed him.

Atrus wanted to look to her, to apologize for his reaction, to explain that it wasn't her fault, that this was his struggle, and tell her that he _loved her too, _that he wanted the intimacy she seemed to desire with him. He wanted to make love to her, to watch her fall asleep in his arms every night, but he feared so much and the fears consumed him. So instead he remained still, his lowered gaze fixated on the Riven book that he had been writing in hours earlier.

Sighing, Catherine allowed him his silence. His panic at close contact, physical or emotional, had taken its toll on her, but she knew that there were wounds and memories that took time to heal. "Atrus," Catherine said finally, drawing him out of his thoughts. She approached him slowly, but her footsteps were deafening to him in the silent study. She rested a hand gently on his shoulder and he looked up at her, his pale eyes full of everything he wanted to say but could not articulate.

He closed his eyes briefly and gathered himself, he straightening up and turning towards her. "Why do you come here?" he asked, curving his hands around her waist, barely touching her. "You ask me to move on, but how, after everything I've done wrong? I did _nothing_ while my father played god over you and your people, branding you with his symbols. And now your home is lost to us because of my mistakes. Oh, Catherine." He laughed awkwardly, shaking his head. "I am a fool, and yet you continue to try, continue to show me unconditional love that I do not deserve."

She cupped the side of his face with one hand and placed the other over his heart. "Atrus," she murmured, pressing closer to him. "You really can't see it can you?" She tapped his chest. "This, this right here, is why I love you. This ridiculous, clumsy, wondrous heart you have. The heart you try so hard to explain with your logic and your reason, when you simply cannot." She ran her thumb over his cheek, feeling the prickling of his short beard on her fingertips. "I know you think that I see Gehn again when I look at you. And yes, he is there, in your pale eyes, in the shape of your face, in the solemnity you carry yourself with." She paused. "And yet, Atrus, even with everything you went through, and all the time you were with him, I have never seen any of your father in your heart, and your heart shines brighter than all else about you. I love you, because you are a _good man, _even if you cannot see it yourself."

She traced her thumb across his lips, feeling the contemplative frown he so often wore when he was deep in thought, writing an Age or considering his experiments. She understood his confusion; Atrus was a man who relied on logic and reason for everything. He could not understand that some things in life simply _were_ and could not be explained through science and hypotheses and experimentation. That some things had to be felt with the heart and not analyzed by the mind.

No longer making eye contact, but without a change in his expression, Atrus took her hand in his and pressed it to his lips, gently kissing her palm and fingertips. Unsure of everything, of what he was doing and of what she was feeling, he looked up to her and saw her smiling that beautiful, reassuring smile that he loved so much. And it gave him courage.

"Do you know when I fell in love with you?" he asked lowly, barely grazing Catherine's lips with his own, now curved into smile to match hers. He tilted his head and moved his lips lower, not quite making contact with her skin, but near enough that he was sure she could feel his closeness.

"Hmmm? No, I …" She exhaled sharply as she felt the warmth of his breath on her neck. "I don't suppose I do," she finished, her voice barely above a whisper.

He pressed his lips to the crook of her neck and Catherine held her breath, afraid that any movement would break this moment. "I went to you," he said, kissing her again and again, his lips trailing down to the fabric of her shirt. "I was worried."

"As you often are," Catherine teased. Atrus laughed softly and she shuddered as she felt his breath move quickly against her skin.

"As I said," he murmured, nuzzling the exposed part of her collarbone. "I was worried. It was in the early days of the planning of our escape. I wasn't sure that I could ever move beyond my father's grasp." He stopped, moving back to the brand on her neck and kissing it gently, as though erasing the memories left there and replacing them with this, his intimacy, his attempt to express what he couldn't explain. He pulled back to take her face in his hands, to gaze into her eyes.

"You saw, as soon as I walked in, the worry in my eyes. You knew I had doubt, and you smiled, a smile full of hope and reassurance and the knowledge that everything would be as it should be in the end. It chased away all of my doubt. You gave me faith, when I had none. And in that moment, I fell deeply, undeniably, and hopelessly, in love with you."

Atrus kissed her then, tasting her lips for a few moments before deepening the kiss. He wrapped his arms around her waist and Catherine pulled him even closer, wanting this more than he could ever know. She had one hand grasped tightly in the front of his robes and the other running through his hair, pleading with him to be there, to show her what his words could not.

It was the closest they had ever been. Atrus had always been the one to leave, to say "not now" and return to editing the Riven descriptive book or simply walk off without another word, to ponder what his mind could not rationalize. Catherine knew that he did not mean it as a rejection of her, but that did not make it sting any less when he distanced himself from her, physically and emotionally.

And as Catherine felt him begin to pull away once more, and she tightened her grip on his robes, wordlessly begging him to stay. Sensing her anxiety, he kissed her again. "I am here, Catherine," he said firmly. "I am not leaving. But I hardly imagine that my study is a comfortable place to do this."

Slowly she let out a breath that she had not even realized she had been holding. "Of course," she whispered. "Did you leave your room here as it was?" she asked, remembering the small bed and chest of drawers tucked in one of the alcoves in K'veer. It was hardly to be considered a bedroom, but it was the best they could do here on K'veer.

Atrus nodded and took her hands in his own, his face becoming serious once more.

"I must ask, Catherine," he started, shaking his head when she opened her mouth to protest. "You know I _must_ be certain. Do you want this? Am I… am I really the person you want to give so precious a gift? _Are you sure_? Are you sure you wish to give so, so _flawed_ a man, your heart and your body?"

"Atrus," she whispered, cupping his chin with one hand. "Never have I been surer about anything in my life. I am only yours."

Lying in the small bed, Catherine rolled to face him and Atrus pulled her into his arms, holding her as closely as he could. "Catherine," he whispered, resting his chin on her head. "Catherine, I love you."

"And I, you," she replied, looking up and pressing a soft kiss to his lips before settling into the warmth of his chest. Catherine could hear his heartbeat, calm and sure, its steadfast sound lulling her weary body to sleep. Closing her eyes, she curled closer to him, enjoying the warmth, the feeling of him there, and knowing that nothing could take this moment away from them. He loved her, and although she had always known it, had seen it in his open heart, the verbal confession made it real, in the here and now, in this new life they would forge together.

Atrus could feel when her breathing became rhythmic, and she had fallen asleep. _Asleep in my arms_, he thought, nuzzling into her hair, breathing in her mellow scent. _Catherine, my love, I, too, am only yours._


End file.
